THE DIFFERENT ROUTES TO CALIFORNIA, AND THEIR RESPECTIVE
CHARACTERS.
The various routes taken by the emigrants to California have afforded
almost as much matter for discussion as the territory itself. The
shortest and most travelled route is that by way of the Isthmus of
Panama; and of this we shall first give a description, with
recommendations to travellers, and the experience of some who have
taken that route to the "land of promise."
Both steam and sailing vessels are constantly engaged in carrying
freight and passengers from the principal ports of the Atlantic States
to Chagres, the principal port on the eastern coast of the Isthmus.
Tickets which will carry passengers to Chagres, and, after crossing
the Isthmus, from Panama to San Francisco, can be purchased in New
York, from whence to Chagres, the passage generally occupies about
eight days, and has been accomplished in seven. The harbor of Chagres
is a small but good one, for vessels of less than two hundred tons
burden. It is protected by hills on all sides and towards the ocean,
by a beetling cliff, jutting out into the sea, on the summit of which
is the ancient and somewhat dilapidated castle of San Lorenzo. At the
base of this cliff is the channel which forms an entrance to the town.
Ignorance of this fact caused the wreck of several of the vessels
which went from the United States to Chagres soon after the receipt of
the news of the gold discovery. The following is a description of
Chagres and its inhabitants in the early part of 1849. It has since
improved considerably, on account of the travel across the Isthmus.
"The first thing which struck our wondering gaze on entering Chagres,
was its bee-hive appearance. It is a strange, fantastic, and
oddish-looking town, situated in a deep, dark hollow or cove. It
consists of some forty or fifty huts, with pointed palm-thatched
roofs, and reed walls. Nor were the innumerable buzzards which were
flying about or resting on the houses, together with the energetic
gesticulation of the natives when in conversation, as we drew near, at
all calculated to lessen the picturesque effect of a first view. The
surrounding country was any thing but devoid of interest and beauty.
All had a strange, equatorial look; while the green hills around,
clothed with rich tropical verdure, and the graceful and shadowy palm
and cocoanut, with other strange fantastic trees, together with the
ruins of the large old Spanish castle, on the heights above the town,
gave to the scenery a very beautiful and picturesque aspect.
"Most of us were soon ashore and rambling through the town. We landed
at the beach, on some logs, which, during the rainy season, are
necessary to preserve the pedestrian from a quagmire, in the midst of
dense foliage that was here luxuriant to the water's edge, surrounded
by about thirty canoes and some forty or fifty huge black fellows,
mostly in the garb in which nature arrayed them. We passed on beneath
a burning sun, which in the shade brought the thermometer to 90° of
Fahrenheit. A majority of the natives are black, but some are of a
deep copper or mulatto color. The thick lips and woolly head of the
African; the high cheek-bones, straight hair, and dogged look of the
Indian; and the more chisled features and finely expressive eyes of
the Spaniard, are all here, though often so blended, that it is
difficult to say to which race they chiefly owe their origin. In truth
they are a mongrel race, but generally have the most magnificent,
large, dark, expressive eyes I have ever seen. These, when in
conversation, which is almost continual, they use to some purpose,
while the incessant rapid clatter of their tongues, and their violent
gesticulations and grimaces, are often quite ludicrous. The females,
some of whom have rather pretty faces, and particularly fine eyes,
were dressed out in the most tawdry finery, with divers furbelows,
flounces, and ruffles, encircling the shoulders, where the dress
begins, and terminating somewhere about or below the knee. Some of the
younger ones were entirely _model artiste_, at least so far as their
clothing was concerned, but the forms of most were rather indifferent.
Many were sitting or lounging about the doors or in the cabins, eating
tamarinds, oranges, and other fruit, surrounded by hairless dogs,
pigs, naked children, turkey-buzzards, and some other _little_ live
stock, forming altogether quite a congruous and homogeneous mixture.
"In a Country like this, where the temperature is so nearly alike
throughout the year, there is a natural tendency to indolence and
sloth, and it is remarkable what an influence the climate exerts on
the character of the people. Here nature with a bounteous hand
spontaneously fructifies the earth, and the natives, with few wants to
supply, pluck the fruit and are satisfied; and with few necessities
for enterprise and industry, such is their love of indolence, that all
the charms of existence appear to consist in dreaming away life in
quiet and repose. Basking beneath a tropical sun, or listlessly
reclining on nature's downy couch, days--years--are passed in drowsy
languor and supine sloth.
"But the influx of men from rougher climes and bleaker regions will
probably exercise a salutary influence, by showing them the advantages
of industry and patient toil. Already they begin to perceive this, to
some extent, and though such dear lovers of money, that in closing a
bargain they will jabber their _patois_, or bad Spanish, with uncouth
gesticulations, for half a day, the majority of them are unwilling to
make any extra bodily effort to procure it; but when persuaded by
liberal offers to undertake a task, it is astonishing with what dogged
perseverance they will often pursue it, what weights they can support,
and what toil they can endure."[14]
It is recommended that passengers from the States should remain as
short a time in Chagres as possible. The exhalations from its
malarious atmosphere are extremely prejudicial to the health of the
new-comer.
From Chagres, the travellers proceed in canoes up the Chagres river,
to Gorgona, a distance of about fifty miles, or eight miles further,
to Cruces. The canoes are mostly owned by the natives, and the
greatest care is necessary to get them to keep their agreement. The
usual plan by which their services are secured, is this: A bargain is
made with the owner of the canoe, stipulating for the necessary
captain and poles-men, and then some of the party going up the river
in the canoe, take possession of it, and maintain it, while one goes
before the alcalde, and pays the whole amount agreed upon, taking a
receipt in Spanish. This precaution is rendered necessary; the
proprietor of the canoe returning the money to those who engaged it,
on finding he can obtain a greater price from others. At the present
time, vessels, steam and sailing, are being constructed at Chagres,
for the passage up the river, the increase of the Isthmus travel
rendering it both necessary and profitable.
The beauty of the country through which the Chagres river flows has
been the theme of frequent praise. Its banks are filled with all the
luxuriant verdure which tropical climes produce. The tamarind, the
date, the pomegranate, the plantain, the banana, the cocoanut, the
lime, the citron, and the pine apple, are abundant. Flowers of every
hue send forth their fragrance upon the air, rendering its sweetness
delightful to the senses. Orange groves are numerous, and the fruit is
as plentiful as the apple of the Southern States of the Union.
Mountains, hills, and valleys diversify the prospect, while the ear is
filled with the melodious notes of thousands of birds, native of the
tropics, their music contrasting with the discordant noise of the
parrots, mackaws, and chattering monkeys. Such a scene is worth the
travel to the Isthmus, and the toils sometimes endured in crossing it.
Several small towns and ranches are scattered along the banks of the
river. The first is Gatun, ten or twelve miles above Chagres. About
ten miles further is Dos Hermano; further on, Pûro Blanco, and
Palenquillá last, about two-thirds of the way to Gorgona. These are
stopping places for the canoes, where refreshments and supplies can be
procured.
At night, parties that land are compelled to build fires to keep off
the wild beasts and venomous serpents, which abound in the
neighborhood of the river, and to disperse the myriads of insects with
which the air teems. Alligators of a large size, are to be seen lying
on the banks in the day time, basking in the sun. Above Palenquillá
are some powerful currents, which it requires considerable toil to
move against. The river is in some places a half a mile wide, and in
others, not more than thirty yards. The boatmen are exceedingly
indolent, and require constant driving and coaxing to keep them
moving; but sometimes, when they are prevailed upon to go to work,
they will exhibit an endurance and perseverance almost astonishing.
They have been frequently known to work at the poles, pushing the boat
along, for twenty-four hours, without rest. The difficulty of
ascending the Chagres river, may be appreciated, when it is stated,
that although Gorgona is only fifty miles from the town of Chagres, it
frequently occupies as high as forty hours for the canoes to reach
that place. Stoppages are, of course, numerous, both on account of the
tiring of the boatmen and for refreshment.
"Gorgona is located upon a bend of the river, from which a fine view
of the river and valley is obtained. The valley is here about five
miles wide, the mountains rising from it in successive ranges, and
with increasing elevations. It is an admirable location for a town,
and must become one of considerable importance--especially should it
be on the route of the proposed railroad across the Isthmus. It has a
far better appearance than Chagres; the streets are laid out with some
pretensions to regularity. It is the head of canoe navigation, and
steamboats of light draft can approach it. The dwellings or huts are
of a better class than those at Chagres; they have an unfinished
Catholic church that looks rude and ragged, but nevertheless, it is a
church. The carrying trade is now almost the only business pursued by
its inhabitants; what they did before the gold of California began to
invite a swarm of adventurers across the Isthmus, to the town is more
than can be divined. Theirs must have been as near a pastoral or
primitive life, as any that can be seen in our day. The soil is
teeming with the evidences of its richness--inviting the hand of man
to its cultivation, by showing what it is capable of doing without
it--but it is undisturbed, save in a few stinted spots of less size
than our ordinary kitchen gardens. All else is left to spontaneous
production. They have herds of cattle; these, with game, flesh, fish,
and fowl, easily procured, must have been their principal sustenance.
But it is with them as with the rest of the world, wants increase with
the facilities for gratifying them. They are rapidly changing their
habits since they have an opportunity to earn money and luxuries, that
they have been strangers to, are brought within their means and their
reach.
During the _dry season_, which lasts from December till June, the
road from Gorgona to Panama is generally preferred; at other times,
the canoes proceed up the river about eight miles, to the town of
Cruces, and take the road leading from that place to Panama. Each of
these routes shall receive our consideration, and their respective
advantages and disadvantages be set forth. It is advisable, that
travellers should rest as short a time as possible at Gorgona, as
accommodations are of very poor character. Mules and a small species
of mustang are easily obtained, but the mule is far preferable. Some
travellers find it a great relief to walk a part of the distance, and,
with that intention, parties hire mules or horses in the proportion of
two to every three travellers. The baggage will have to be placed
under the charge of the native muleteers, but, from their observed
habits of filching wherever they get a chance, it is advisable not to
trust them out of sight. There are several places upon the route where
refreshments can be procured; but most of the travellers start at
daylight from Gorgona, and push directly through to Panama, in one
day. This is the best mode of proceeding, if the fatigue is found to
be endurable; for it is above all things important that in such a
climate too great fatigue should be avoided. The following account of
a journey to Panama by way of the Gorgona road, and descriptions of
the road is from a recently published narrative:
"We arose from cot and hammock, flea-bitten, and but little refreshed,
though ready to start on what we deemed our perilous journey across
the Isthmus. Hour after hour elapsed, till the most pleasant part of
the day was gone, and the sun shone with torrid fervor; but still our
mules were not ready, our host keeping them back, as we afterwards
learned, to obtain a higher rate. Annoyed beyond endurance at the
delay, and the tardy movements of the worthless set around us, we
scoured the town, and at length succeeded in obtaining four
miserable-looking little animals at eight dollars a-piece. Another was
still wanting, and, by an offer of ten dollars, I at length succeeded
in getting a tolerably good one. Though so wretched in appearance, we
found these animals capable of great endurance.
"Glad that the vexatious and irritating events of the morning, which
the cupidity and dogged laziness of these slothful mongrels had
produced, were happily ended, we hastily swallowed a cup of bad
coffee, handed by a damsel nearly _nude_, and mounting our
_Rosinantes_, we started at a brisk canter, beneath a broiling sun,
while our _guido_, all stripped and on foot, trotted off in advance.
"For the first mile, the way was very pleasant over a nearly level
plain, at the termination of which there were stronger indications of
rougher riding, for we soon began to descend a nearly perpendicular
precipice, the only pass, down which was a narrow mule-way, where,
step by step, these animals had worn a passage, over rocks, loose
stones, sand and mud. We at length reached the bottom of the ravine,
and, crossing a brook, which in some parts was a wide and deep chasm,
we commenced a toilsome ascent on the opposite side, over a similar
pathway, surrounded by scenery of wild and unknown plants and trees,
on the mountain and glen, through whose dense foliage a breath could
scarcely penetrate. The fervent atmosphere produced an almost stifling
sensation, while the deathlike silence that reigned throughout,
disturbed only by the audible footfall of our animals, as we slowly
wound around the tortuous ascent, made the journey peculiarly toilsome
and solitary.
[Illustration: SONORIANS DRY-WASHING GOLD.]
"For the first few miles I followed closely at the heels of our guide,
and would often pause and turn to examine the apparently almost
impassable route I had traversed, watch the progress of the rest of
the party, and wonder at the security with which their
cautiously-stepping and sagacious animals would gradually overcome
seemingly insurmountable obstacles. These mustangs and mules, early
trained to travel 'in the wild mountain track,' are capable of great
endurance, and certainly possess much more knowledge than most of
their riders, when exercised upon what they consider the safest and
surest stepping-place, and best mode of proceeding. I urged mine
repeatedly, to make him choose a path, which to all appearance was
preferable to his own, but to no purpose. He would turn half round,
and in a slow, solemn way, put his nose to the ground, and looking
keenly about the place, would cautiously put one foot forward, then
another, then a third and a fourth, when, poised on all drawn under
him, and close together, he would have a better opportunity for
further inspection, which having satisfactorily accomplished, another
equally deliberate and cautious step would be made as before, down
what, to all appearance, was an impracticable route, and so on, until
the difficulty was overcome. Finding that he knew so much better than
I did, how, where, and when he ought to travel, I invariably threw the
reins to him, when hazardous passes or other obstacles were to be
surmounted. The result was always fortunate. One or two of the party,
however, were satisfied that 'horses should not have their own way,'
and whipped and spurred theirs to such an extent, to compel compliance
with their better judgment, that the issue was as I had anticipated.
One was thrown over his horse's head into a mud puddle, and the other,
with horse and all, stuck fast in a quagmire, from which it was not
easy to extricate him. Should these lines ever meet the eye of those
worthy gentlemen, I trust they will pardon the liberty I have taken in
recording here their feats of muleship. It is true that mine stumbled
on some loose stones once or twice, in descending hills, and my
efforts alone with the reins saved both him and me from a fall; but
for unmistakeable judgment in traversing these perilous
mountain-passes, I must admit he proved himself the better of the two.
"Thus we trudged on, often over difficult, and sometimes dangerous
ways. Occasionally we would have to go up or down, as the case might
be, for nearly half a mile at one time, through a chasm or sluice,
probably worn in the mountains by the torrents of water that descend
during the rainy season. These gully-holes are often ten and fifteen
feet deep throughout their entire extent, and the passes are so
narrow, as barely to admit of one horse or mule passing through at a
time; the rider, to avoid a severe contusion, or probably a broken
limb, in turning the sharp angles, being compelled to place his feet
as near the animal's head as possible, and in this manner he can ride
in perfect safety, though some little management is requisite to
maintain an equilibrium. Before entering these defiles, the muleteers
shout at the top of their voices, and stop for a short time,
continuing the shouting as they advance, to apprize others at the
opposite extremity of the pass, that the way is already occupied. This
is necessary and important, for if two on horseback were to meet in
one of these narrow but crooked paths, the scene between the Quaker
and Dandy would have to be re-enacted, for many newspapers would have
to be read, and many segars smoked, before either could turn out of
the way for his neighbor.
"Continuing on, we passed two or three _hackalas_, or huts, by the
way, and after several brief but pleasant stoppages at the various
brooks and mountain-rills, we at length came out on a beautiful
undulating meadow, where picturesque villas and shadowy trees decked
the verdant plain, and soon thereafter the towers of Panama were in
view. The sun was just setting as we entered the suburbs, and a flood
of purple glory rested on the sky, reflected back by the sparkling
waters of the Pacific, which brought the distant mountains into bolder
relief, and cast a deeper shadow through the twilight groves. Half an
hour's ride over the paved street, brought us to the city, which we
entered at the 'Gorgona gate,' passing through a heavy stone arch
way, supporting a cupola, in which hangs the alarm bell mounted by a
cross."[15]
Such is the character of the Gorgona road to Panama. With regard to
the Crucis road, we may observe that it is a common practice, for most
of those who take the Gorgona road in going to Panama, on their
return, to take the Crucis road, no doubt hoping that the difficulties
and toil to be encountered are less than those they know are to be met
with upon the other. The following account of a return journey by way
of the Crucis road, with the full character of the route, is given in
the journal of a returned adventurer.
"I had passed three days in Panama; and, feeling desirous of
continuing my journey, I had no sooner concluded this arrangement,
than I got my mule saddled, and my box and carpet-bag packed in the
regular Isthmus fashion. The mule I obtained, like most of his
fellows, was little better than a mere skeleton; but still it was the
best I could procure, and I was fain to content myself with it. Some
of my friends endeavored to persuade me that it was better to proceed
on foot; but I knew the muddy and stony nature of the road, and
thought it infinitely more comfortable to ride a slow animal than
subject myself to the sufferings that I must experience from these
inconveniences.
"The negro, I had hired, brought to my hotel a long frame of bamboo,
with a sort of basket at the end, into which he crammed my luggage.
This frame had two straps fastened to the upper part of it, through
one of which he slipped his arm, whilst he passed the other over his
left shoulder, and attached it under the latter to the frame which was
now on his back. This contrivance not only effectually secures the
load in its place, but protects the shoulders of the bearer from the
continual friction they would otherwise undergo.
"A large party had preceded me; but I felt no anxiety to overtake it,
as there was little or no danger of my encountering violence on the
route. I was armed with a good revolving pistol, in the event of any
thing of the sort presenting itself; so that, all things considered, I
was just as well pleased to be left to my own society.
"I proceeded on my route with my sable attendant, and found the
commencement pleasant enough travelling, the road for some distance
being paved with large and regularly cut stone. This, however, soon
terminated in abundance of sand; the route still continuing dry, and
comparatively easy to what I had expected to find it. Soon after we
had quitted the paved road, the negro stopped and asked my permission
to take a few things to his family, who lived in a small hut to our
left. Apprehensive that he was meditating an escape with my luggage, I
replied that I had no objection, provided he would leave his basket in
my care. He accordingly took the frame off his back, and, separating a
small bundle containing provisions from my baggage, he took his
departure. I took care, however, to keep him in sight and saw him
enter a wretched-looking bamboo-hut at a little distance from the
route. He remained absent a considerable time; and, having paid him
half his wages in advance, according to the usual custom with these
people, who are exceedingly distrustful, I began to fear that he was
about to desert me, and therefore called out lustily, until at last I
saw him reluctantly emerge from the hut, and make his way towards me.
These negroes being constantly in the habit of deserting travellers on
the route, and stealing their baggage whenever the opportunity
presents itself, I was particularly careful not to lose sight of my
attendant.
"A few miles further on, I again found myself on a stone road, said to
have been paved by Cortes to facilitate the passage of his troops from
the Atlantic to the Pacific coast; and, although I have travelled
rougher and steeper routes in Lower California, I cannot say that I
have ever encountered such a combination of petty difficulties and
annoyances. The road is, for the greater part, barely wide enough to
admit of one mule passing with its packs, the sides forming steep
embankments, composed chiefly of rich clay, out, in many places, of
large rocks, through which a passage had evidently been cut with great
labor. But little of the country can be seen on either side, owing to
the height of these embankments; but now and then the traveller
obtains a glimpse of dense thickets, and occasionally of undulating
hills, the summits of which are covered with a deep perennial green.
The recent rains having poured in torrents down the steep sides of the
road, every cavity and crevice was filled with water and mud. Owing to
the nature of the soil, and the constant traffic across the route from
the time it was originally cut through, innumerable stones and flags
had sunk considerably below the level of their original position;
whilst a few had retained their places, as if to serve as
stepping-stones to the traveller over the wet and mud. It is a task of
incessant and wearying exertion, however, even for those who are
mounted on mules, to avoid floundering into some of these pitfalls and
quagmires at every step they make.
"The mules themselves are, as I have already stated, so worn-out, and
broken-down, that it requires the utmost vigilance and care on the
part of their riders to prevent them dropping, and precipitating them
into the mire. In order to guard as much as possible against this
contingency, whenever ladies travel this route, they are obliged to
discard the side-saddle, and resort to a less feminine style of
equitation. I overtook a party of about twenty persons on the road,
amongst whom was a married lady on her way to the States; and I
watched her rather curiously, to observe how she got over the
difficulties that beset her. Being fortified with that article of male
attire, the figurative possession of which is said to denote domestic
ascendency, she thought it incumbent upon her, I suppose, to display
all the courage and nerve that should properly be encased in it.
Several times, when I fancied that both she and her mule were on the
point of being capsized, she recovered herself with admirable presence
of mind, and seemed to enjoy the risk exceedingly.
"As to myself, I floundered on as well as I could with a mule
tottering beneath me from sheer exhaustion, and sinking every minute
up to his knees in mud. It seemed to me that we were making little or
no progress; and I became thoroughly tired and disheartened. I do not
know any temptation, however powerful, that would again induce me to
encounter the never-ending series of difficulties and annoyances that
laid in wait for me at every step; and I must candidly own, that even
the force of female example, of which I had so merry a specimen before
me, did not at all shame me into a less impatient endurance of them.
"The negroes whom I met on their way to and from Panama excited my
astonishment, from the amount of physical exertion which they seemed
capable of undergoing. With their legs and feet bare, and nothing but
a cloth around their loins, they carried enormous burdens on their
backs, stepping from stone to stone with wonderful strength and
dexterity. These poor creatures must lead the most wretched and
laborious of all the painful modes of existence to which their race is
condemned; and not even long habit, or their peculiar physical
construction, can divest it of its distressing character in the eyes
of a stranger. They all bear, on their hard and wrinkled faces, the
stamp of overtaxed strength; but they seemed content with their lot,
and will, doubtless, regret the formation of a better route, as
tending to depreciate the value of their services. Notwithstanding the
toilsome and laborious nature of their occupations, however, the
carriers of Panama are the hardiest and most muscular race to be seen
here; for the rest of the population, both white and black, are of
comparatively sickly and diminutive appearance.
"Moving somewhat like a ship in a storm, rising and sinking
alternately at stern and bow, surmounting first one huge stone, then a
deep mud hole, then another stone, and then a small lake, my mule and
myself at last reached Crucis in the evening, the whole distance
traversed not being above twenty miles."[16]
The town of Crucis is a place very similar to Gorgona, but not so
large. The houses are built of cane and plastered with mud. No
attention is given to arrangement, and but a small portion is so
constructed as to bear any resemblance to a street. The climate is
unhealthy, and travellers from the United States make as short a stay
there as possible. Doubtless, with the increase of travel, the
character of the town and its accommodations will improve; but the
heat and humidity of the atmosphere, particularly just after the rainy
season, cause a great deal of injury to the health of people from the
United States, and will prevent any considerable settlement of
Anglo-Saxons in the town.
Panama, the terminus of the varied and difficult route across the
Isthmus, is situated on the shore of an extensive and beautiful bay.
It contains about eight thousand inhabitants, most of whom are
negroes. Being one of the old Spanish towns, upon the decline of the
Spanish power, the place fell into decay. The houses are generally of
stone or brick, two and three stories in height, whitewashed or
covered with a coat of plaster, and are invariably surrounded by a
balcony protected from sun and rain by the roofs of the houses
extending over them. The town is regularly arranged, the strait and
narrow streets intersecting each other at right angles. The
substantial character of the buildings as well as the evidences of
neglect and decay, strike the traveller at the same time. A wall was
built by the Spaniards, around the portion of the town nearest the
bay, but at least one half of the population reside beyond its limits,
and it is in a dilapidated state. A venerable, decayed, but still
imposing cathedral; a grand _plaza_, or open common--a general
characteristic of Spanish built towns; several churches, partly in
ruins; the ruins of the College of Jesuits, which cover a large
extent, and of two monasteries, of which the walls and bells alone
remain; and the frowning walls and towers of the battery, fronting the
bay, are the principal features of the town of Panama. Since the
commencement of the emigration to California, a number of Americans
have established hotels and eating-houses in the town, and good
accommodations are, therefore, to be obtained by travellers.
The atmosphere at Panama is particularly injurious to people from the
northern climes, and great care must be taken by travellers during
their stay at that place. It is best to avoid eating fruit altogether;
but, if indulged in, it should be in very inconsiderable quantities.
Exposure to the mid-day sun is a frequent cause of sickness among the
travellers, and should be avoided, as well as exposure to the rain.
During the rainy season, the _vomito_ is often prevalent among the
inhabitants of Panama, and is generally a fatal disease; but there is
a great deal less travel across the Isthmus during that season, on
account of the sickliness of the climate and the difficulties of the
route. A sort of bilious fever and dysentery are the most common forms
of disease among travellers from the north; but both may be avoided by
proper care.
From Panama, steamships of superior size and accommodation, convey
passengers to San Francisco. Starting from the front of the city, the
beautiful bay, with its semi-circular shores skirted with green
foliage and inclosed with high mountains, and the lofty islands of
Flamingo, Perico, Taboga, and others, present themselves to the view.
At the island of Taboga, all the vessels that come into the bay obtain
their supplies, and the Pacific Mail Steamship Company have
established their depot for coal, &c., on its shores. After obtaining
all the necessary supplies the steamship moves out of the bay,
rounding Point Mala. The voyage upon the Pacific, with all its variety
of incident and scenery, then commences. The principal annoyance of
travellers is the almost intolerable heat of the sun and furnaces of
the steamship united. Water-spouts and different species of whale are
frequent sights. North of the Gulf of Tehuantepec, the steamer nears
the land, and the bold mountain coast of Mexico breaks upon the view,
and, at night, the passengers enjoy a view of the glaring light
produced by the burning volcano of Colima; though the volcano itself
is but imperfectly seen being at the distance of ninety miles from the
vessel. Soon after this fades from the view, the islands off the town
of San Blas appear, and an immense white rock, isolated from the sea,
serving as a lighthouse to ships steering for the port. At San Blas,
the steamships remain some time, to obtain supplies of coal, fresh
fruits, and provisions. These indispensables having been procured, the
vessel proceeds upon her voyage. Cape Corientes next appears, and,
soon afterwards, the entrance to the Gulf of California is approached;
and then, Cape San Lucas, the extreme southern point of California,
with its mountains and rocky shores, is hailed by the traveller as the
first portion of the "promised land" that greets his sight. Passing
along the western coast of the peninsula, the island and bay of
Magdalena appear, with shores three or four thousand feet above the
sea. Next, the towering ridges of Cerros Isles are passed, and the
bold, rocky shores of the peninsula are in continual view. The change
of the temperature of the air is generally keenly felt by those who do
not take care to provide against it. Within a few days after leaving
Panama, the thermometer falls from 95° to 55°, and such a change must
have an injurious effect, if additional clothing is not put on to meet
it.
The first portion of Upper California, or, the "Golden Land," which
presents itself to the voyagers, is the Ceronados, two high,
round-topped rocks off the port of San Diego. Then the beautiful,
semi-circular harbor is entered, and if wanting, supplies are obtained
from the town. From the harbor of San Diego, the vessel proceeds along
the coast of California, and the towering peaks of the coast range of
mountains, engage the attention. The high promontory of St. Vincent is
passed, and then the open bay of Monterey is entered, and passengers
are either let off the steamer or taken aboard as necessity may
occasion. From Monterey the steamer keeps along the coast, and
mountainous shores alone meet the view, until the voyagers come in
sight of the Farallones, two large detached rocks at the southern side
of the entrance to the bay of San Francisco. Then the Golden Gate, as
the strait or entrance is called, is entered by the steamer, and the
perpendicular cliffs and hills upon each shore afford matter for
wonder. The strait is about three miles long, and from one to two
miles broad. As the vessel reaches its terminus, the great bay of San
Francisco opens to the view, looking like a miniature ocean. Bird
Island, Wood Island, Angel Island, with the beautiful little bay of
Sancelito, successively meet the gaze, and very soon the steamer is
anchored, having reached her destination. Such is the Isthmus route to
the "gold region." It is the shortest route, or the one which occupies
the least time in traversing, presents great variety, and upon the
whole, its beauties and pleasures outnumber the difficulties and
annoyances.
THE OVERLAND ROUTE.
We now proceed to give the general character and direction of that
which is considered the best land route to California, and which is
the most travelled by emigrants. The principal advantage possessed by
this route may be stated in a few words. It is the shortest route to
the bay of San Francisco and the gold region. The Indians upon the
route are friendly and very few acts of hostility have been committed.
The trail is plain and good where there are no physical obstructions.
To these must be added the certainty of the emigrants reaching their
place of destination, in good season; which will not exist, if new and
unexplored routes are attempted. The greatest calamities and
sufferings have been endured by those who have either taken an
entirely different route, or deviated from the line which we will
describe. Advice concerning the time of starting, preparations, &c.,
will be interspersed in the description.
The starting point, and the general rendezvous for emigrants, is the
town of Independence, Missouri, situated about six miles from the
Missouri River, on the south side of it. This town has been, for many
years, the principal outfitting point for the Santa Fe traders, and
contains about two thousand inhabitants. Emigrants should be at the
starting place by the 20th of April, and start upon their journey as
soon thereafter as the grass will permit. The outfit of companies of
emigrants would be too tedious to mention, and as it varies
considerably, from differences of means and taste, a description would
hardly be accurate. But there are certain things which are
indispensable to those who take this route, and these we will mention.
With respect to wagons and teams, the lightest wagon that can be
constructed of sufficient strength to carry 2,500 pounds weight, is
the vehicle most desirable. This can be drawn by three or four yokes
of oxen, or six mules; oxen are usually employed for this purpose.
Pack mules can only be employed by parties of men; but the journey can
be made in great deal less time with mules than with oxen. The
provisions taken by the companies, consist mainly of flour, bacon,
coffee, and sugar; besides these indispensables, there is rice,
crackers, salt, pepper, and other luxuries of light weight. As to the
quantity necessary, that may be determined by considering the length
of the route and the average number of miles which the emigrants
travel per day. From Independence to the first settlement in
California, which is near the gold region, it is about two thousand
and fifty miles--to San Francisco, 2,290 miles. Oxen teams travel
about fifteen miles per day upon an average. At that rate, it would
require one hundred and thirty-one days to reach the first settlement
in California. Allowance should be made for stoppages by accident.
Every man should be provided with a good rifle, a pair of pistols,
with a quantity of ammunition, and a bowie knife and hatchet, in his
belt. A set of carpenter's tools is also necessary.
Starting from Independence, and travelling a few miles over a good
road, the first prairie opens upon the view. This is called the Blue
Prairie, and presents a surface undulating and clothed with rich
verdure. In crossing this prairie, violent storms often overtake the
emigrants, and to those who have not been accustomed to it, the scene
during the storm is terrifically grand. Fourteen miles travel upon
the prairie brings the emigrants to the "Blue Creek," which is
fordable, except after a heavy rain. Fording the creek and crossing
the timbered bottom of the stream, another magnificent prairie is
entered, which is beyond the Missouri line, and within the Indian
territory. Sixteen miles travel over this beautiful plain brings the
emigrant to Indian Creek, the banks of which usually serve for a place
of encampment. The prairie offers the best pasturage for cattle; but
constant watching is necessary to keep them from straying away and
returning to the settlements. From Indian Creek, the emigrants proceed
across the prairie, along the Santa Fe trail, for about fifteen miles,
and then leave it, turning off to the right hand. Crossing several
deep ravines, which are very difficult of passage in rainy weather,
the emigrants arrive on the banks of the Werkarusa Creek. This is
another favorite place of encampment, groves of trees being on each
side of it. From this creek, the route is over the high-rolling
prairie, upon a smooth and hard trail. The want of water is the only
annoyance that is experienced by the travellers, and a long day's
journey is necessary to bring them to the nearest creek--a branch of
the Kansas River. The banks of the creek are steep, and considerable
toil is requisite to cross it.
The crossing of the Kansas River is the next difficulty to be met.
There is a regular ferry about five miles from where the emigrants
cross the tributary creek. At that place the river is never more than
two hundred yards wide, even after heavy rains. The wagons are placed
in boats, owned by the Indians, and transported to the opposite shore
for the sum of one dollar per load. The oxen and horses are compelled
to swim across. Following the trail for about three miles, a place of
encampment, on the banks of Soldier Creek, is reached. The soil in the
neighborhood of the Kansas is luxuriantly productive, and the most
refreshing verdure meets the eye along the trails from that river to
Soldier Creek. The route is then pursued over a flat plain--boggy in
some places--for several miles, till another creek is reached, the
banks of which are steep, and this, as in other cases, make its
crossing a matter of great toil. The trail then runs over a high,
undulating country, presenting every variety of scenery, as far as
Black Paint Creek, near which are two Kansas Indian villages. The
Kansas are a friendly tribe, and if they were not, they are not
powerful enough to attack large parties of emigrants. They are
somewhat disposed to pilfer whatever they can conveniently, and
require close watching.
After crossing the creek, the trail is followed through a fertile
valley, across Hurricane Creek, which is somewhat difficult of
passage, and then over an open and rolling prairie, broken by small
branches and ravines. Many places, convenient for encamping, are to be
found on the route, some of which have springs of pure cold water.
Farther on, the ground becomes more broken, and Vermilion Creek, a
large and rapid stream, is reached. Its banks are steep, and its
fording very toilsome and difficult. Between this creek and the Big
Blue, there is neither wood nor water to be obtained, and therefore,
it is customary for the emigrants to fill their casks at this place.
The ground between the two streams, a distance of ten miles, is more
broken than any upon the former part of the route, and on arriving at
the Big Blue, a steep descent is made to the low, bottom lands near
the river. The usual width of the Big Blue is about a hundred yards,
at which time alone it is fordable. It becomes much swollen by heavy
rains, and very rapid in its current.
Arising from the bottom of the Big Blue River, the emigrants are again
upon the high and undulating prairie. Every variety of scenery is
presented to the view, and springs of water, issuing from the cliffy
banks of the small branches and ravines, and shaded by groves of trees
offer many places for rest and refreshment. Fourteen miles from the
Big Blue, one of its tributaries, exceedingly difficult to cross with
large wagons and teams, is met with. After passing it, the trail runs
over a smooth inclined plane for the distance of twelve miles, to
another encamping place for emigrants, upon the banks of a small
creek. From that creek there is a gradual ascent for the distance of
about fourteen miles, and then a beautiful valley, through which flows
a small stream, meets the eye of the wearied emigrants, and offers
groves of oak to serve for places of rest. Then there is another
gradual ascent, through a country which is more sandy and less fertile
than any met with upon the former part of the route, for more than
twenty miles. The Little Blue is then reached, and the train continues
along up the banks of the stream for the distance of about fifty
miles; the road being dry and firm, except in a few ravines. The trail
then diverges from the stream to the right, ascending over the bluffs,
into the high table land of the prairie, and continues to ascend
gradually until the bluffs overlooking the valley of the Platte River,
are reached. The soil along this part of the trail is sandy, and the
grass rather scarce; but water can be obtained at several places.
The Platte River is about one hundred and fifty yards in breadth where
the trail reaches it. The current is sluggish and turbid, and the
water is very shallow. The trail continues along the banks of the
river, the course of which is nearly from west to east, and the road
is all that could be wished for travelling. The bluffs which skirt the
valley present considerable variety, and as the route is continued,
they become more elevated and broken. The soil of the valley becomes
less fertile and the vegetation is thin and short. After traversing
the valley of the Platte for the distance of one hundred and thirty
miles, the trail crosses the river and continues along the northern
bank of the south fork for about twelve miles, when it diverges from
the stream to pass over the prairie to the north fork. The distance
from the south to the north fork of the Platte, by the emigrant trail,
is about twenty-two miles, without water. The country between the two
streams is high and rolling. The soil is poor, the grass short, and no
trees or shrubs are visible. The trail descends into the valley of the
north fork of the Platte, through a pass known as Ash Hollow. There is
but one steep or difficult place for wagons in the pass, and in the
valley will be found a spring of pure cool water. At this place, there
is a sort of post office, where letters are left by emigrants, with
requests that they shall be taken to the States by those who pass this
way.
For several miles from Ash Hollow the trail passes over a sandy soil,
which is very soft, but which afterwards becomes firmer. The scenery
then presents the aspect of barrenness and desolation. Sand and rocks
are all that meet the view for many miles. The landscape then assumes
a greener and more refreshing appearance, and groves of trees relieve
the emigrants from pursuing their way any farther during the day.
Farther on, the well-known landmark, called the "Chimney Rock," which
can be seen at a great distance, is met by the emigrants. It is
composed of soft rock, and is several hundred feet high. The scenery
in the neighbourhood of the rock is very remarkable and picturesque.
There are a number of rocky elevations which present the appearance of
vast temples and pyramids, with domes and spires partially in ruins.
Over a sandy soil, the trail is pursued for about twenty miles, the
surrounding scenery being of the most sublime and singular character.
Near a remarkable rocky conformation, called "Scott's Bluff," the
trail leaves the river, and runs over a smooth valley in the rear of
the bluff. It there ascends to the top of the dividing ridge, from
which the Rocky Mountains can be seen. Descending from the ridge, it
passes over a barren country, broken by deep chasms and ravines, for
about twelve miles, when Horse Creek is reached. From that creek, the
trail is followed to the Platte River, where a place for encampment is
found, though the grass is very indifferent. Continuing for several
miles through a barren country, the trail is followed to "Fort
Bernard," a small building, rudely constructed of logs, used as a
trading-post. Eight miles farther on, is Fort Laramie, or Fort John,
as it is sometimes called. This fort has been the principal
trading-post of the American Fur Company. It is situated in the
Laramie River, near its junction with the Platte, and is six hundred
and seventy-two miles from Independence. The building is
quadrangular, and is constructed of _adobé_, or sun-dried bricks. Its
walls are surmounted by watch-towers and its gate is defended by two
brass swivels.
From Fort Laramie, the trail continues on through a broken country, to
the Platte River, a distance of twenty miles. Crossing a small creek
which empties into the Platte, it proceeds through the dry bed of one
of its branches, over a deep sand for six or eight miles, and reaches
the summit of a high ridge. From thence it descends into a narrow
valley, through which flows a small stream of pure water. Another
ridge of hills is then ascended, and a wild, desolate, but picturesque
scene is presented to the view. Numerous lofty mountain peaks, barren
rocks, and a vast prospect of low conical hills are the principal
features. Through a country, the principal features of which are of
this description, the trail is followed, and the monotony of the
journey is only relieved by an occasional stoppage at a refreshing
spring of water. The trail gradually ascends towards the summit of the
Rocky Mountains, and the country becomes more broken and sterile, till
it reaches Beaver Creek, a tributary of the Platte. There the grass
and water are good, and the wood is abundant. The country exhibits
every indication of fertility upon the trail leading from Beaver
Creek, and pure and limpid streams are frequent, until the Platte
River is again struck and followed upon its southern bank, for the
distance of about eighteen miles. The river is then forded, and the
trail ascends the high bluffs overlooking the valley, and proceeds
over several miles of table-land till the valley of the Platte is
again reached. At this point, the trail finally leaves the Platte,
and, ascending the bluffs on the right, passes over an arid plain
diversified with immense piles of rocks, deep ravines and chasms, and
presenting a wide-spread sterility and desolation, for the distance of
forty miles. Water is to be obtained in very small quantities and at
few places on this part of the trail, and, therefore a scarcity should
be provided for before leaving the Platte. At the end of that
distance, the trail descends into a small valley, where spring water
can be obtained and some refreshing shade. Ascending from this valley,
the trail gradually ascends to the summit of a dividing ridge, from
which a view of the Sweetwater River Mountains can be obtained.
Descending from the ridge, a small stream, the grassy banks of which
serve for an encampment, is soon reached. Farther on is a well-known
landmark among the mountains, called Independence Rock. It is an
isolated elevation, composed of masses of rock, about one hundred feet
in height, and a mile in circumference, standing near the northern
bend of the Sweetwater River, and between the ranges of mountains
which border the valley of that stream.
The trail proceeds up the Sweetwater River, and passes a remarkable
fissure in the Rocky Mountain wall, which is called the Devil's Gate.
The fissure is about thirty feet in breadth, and the perpendicular
walls on each side of the channel of the stream which flows through
it, are nearly three hundred feet high. The trail leaves the river
about twelve miles from where it first strikes it, and then returns to
it after traversing about sixteen miles. It again diverges from the
river and crosses a broken and arid plain, which presents but few
signs of vegetation. Passing through a gap between two ranges of
granite mountains, the first view of the Wind River Mountains is
obtained. The trail then proceeds through a narrow valley several
miles in length, the surface of which is white with an alkaline
efflorescence, and then returns to the Sweetwater River. Continuing up
the valley of the Sweetwater, occasionally leaving the bank of the
stream and passing over the rolling and barren tablelands, it crosses
two small creeks which present good places for encampment. Several
miles farther on, the trail crosses the Sweetwater River, and then
leaves it finally, making a gradual ascent to the South Pass of the
Rocky Mountains, or the dividing ridge which separate the waters of
the Atlantic and Pacific.
After the summit of the ridge is reached, the trail passes two or
three miles over a level surface, and then descends to the spring,
well known to emigrants as the "Pacific Spring." The water from this
spring is emptied into the Colorado River of the West, which river
empties into the Gulf of California. This Pacific Spring is two miles
west of the South Pass, and nine hundred and eighty-three miles from
Independence, Missouri.
From the Pacific Spring, the trail passes over an arid, undulating
plain, in a west-by-north course, for about twenty-eight miles, when
the "Little Sandy" River, a branch of the Green or Colorado River,
presents itself, and furnishes the first water after leaving Pacific
Spring. From the Little Sandy River, the trail passes over a plain of
white sand or clay, and within twelve miles reaches the Big Sandy
River, and passes along it for about eighteen miles, and then strikes
off and crosses the Green River, or Colorado of the West. This river
is shallow and only about seventy yards broad. The trail then
continues down the Green River a short distance, and then, making a
right angle, ascends the bluffs bordering the valley of the stream, in
nearly a west course. The country then becomes still more broken and
barren, and the trail ascends gradually to the summit of a ridge, from
which it descends to the banks of the Black Fork, a tributary of the
Green River. This Black Fork is crossed several times upon the route,
but is not more than sixty yards wide and is very shallow. The trail
leaves it to cut off the bends and then returns to it. The scenery
along this part of the route is interesting, but the soil is
frightfully sterile. Diverging from the stream the trail passes over a
barren plain with no vegetation upon it except the wild sage, so
common even in the most sterile country, and then passes through a
bottom of grass, offering a good place for an encampment.
Near this place is Fort Bridger, a small trading-post established by a
Mr. Bridger. The buildings are two or three rudely constructed log
cabins, and they are situated in a handsome fertile bottom, on the
banks of a small stream. This fort is about eleven hundred miles from
Independence, Missouri. From Fort Bridger, many parties anxious to
explore the country, take the route by way of the south end of the
great Salt Lake. But the scarcity of water and the other difficulties
encountered in crossing the sterile plains and the great Salt Desert
should be sufficient to deter emigrants with families from taking that
direction. Oxen could not travel fast enough from one watering-place
to another, and must necessarily perish from thirst. Besides, the
route is but poorly defined, and may be wandered from very easily.
The trail of the old route, and the one taken by most of the
emigrants, leaves Fort Bridger, and pursues a north-westerly course,
through the Bear River valley, which it leaves at a remarkable
landmark called Sheep Rock, and crossing a dividing ridge reaches Fort
Hall, by the valley of the Portneaf River. This fort was established
by the Hudson Bay Company, and it is the seat of a considerable trade
in furs with the Indians and trappers. From Fort Hall the trail
continues on till it reaches the valley of Mary's River. There a
tolerably fertile soil and refreshing vegetation greets the eye of the
travel-worn emigrant. The trail crosses the river five or six times in
as many miles, in order to take advantage of the narrow bottoms made
by the windings of the stream. The bottom is skirted by very high
ranges of mountains to where the trail leaves it, and turning to the
right ascends over low, gravelly hills. Descending from the summit of
a ridge of hills, it passes through a valley where good grass and
water can be obtained--the valley containing several springs of pure
cold water. Emerging from this valley through a narrow gap, the trail
passes into another still more extensive, and pursues a south-westerly
direction for about twenty miles, keeping near the margin of Mary's
River. A succession of low hills are crossed, and another valley is
reached. During the journey through these valleys, the emigrants are
exposed to the fiery rays of the sun, and the hot winds from the
desert are very oppressive. The trail then follows the course of the
river in a direction nearly north-west, through valleys, or plains of
great extent, and mountainous defiles, occasionally following a bend
of the river towards the south-west. The greater portion of these
valleys is barren, but there are frequent fertile spots near the
boiling springs. The only Indians met on this part of the route are
the diggers, and they do not possess the power to do much harm, if
they even were hostile; but they are friendly. The want of water is
the principal annoyance.
Passing over the desolate valleys and hills that border Mary's River,
the trail descends into a large circular basin, in which a place for
encamping is found, but with little water. From this basin, it crosses
some considerable elevations and then a totally barren plain ten miles
wide. Beyond this, water and grass of tolerable quality are soon
found; and there, if possible, a supply should be obtained sufficient
to last for a long day's journey. Rounding the base of a mountain, the
trail takes a south-west course, across a totally barren plain. No
sign of the river, or the existence of any water is exhibited. Near
the southern edge of the plain, which is twenty miles in extent, some
pools of standing water are found, and the place is known as the "Sink
of Mary's River." From these pools to the Truckee, or Salmon Trout
River, the distance is forty-five miles. The trail is followed over
the hills of ashy earth, in which the mules often sink to their
bellies, and over a ground destitute of any vegetation, except
occasional clumps of wild sage. A ridge of mountains is then ascended
by an easy inclined plain, and a view of the distant range of Sierra
Nevada is obtained on reaching the summit. The intervening valley
presents as barren a prospect as the country immediately preceding it.
Descending into it, numerous boiling springs are found, which often
serve to delude the thirsty emigrants. But by damming up the streams
which flow from them, the water may be cooled, and, although
impregnated with salt, sulphur, and magnesia, it may quench the
thirst. The phenomenon of mirage is frequently presented to the view
of the emigrants, and it very often assumes the appearance of things
unknown to that desert region, such as lakes, cascades, and foaming
and tumbling waters. About twelve miles from the springs, a ridge of
sandy hills, running across the valley, is ascended, and then an
elevated plain of about ten miles in extent is crossed by the trail.
Over this plain the travelling is very laborious--the sand being very
deep. But at length the Truckee River is reached, and water, grass and
trees, larger than any upon the former part of the route for five
hundred miles preceding, greet the wearied and thirsty emigrant.
The Truckee River is about fifty feet in breadth with a shallow but
rapid current of clear water. The bottom land is exceedingly fertile,
and game is sometimes to be obtained in its neighborhood. The trail
crosses the Truckee very frequently, in its winding course, but the
country being agreeable, this is not considered toilsome by the
emigrant, after traversing the barren plains in the vicinity of Mary's
River. The course of the Truckee is nearly from the south-west to the
north-east, and in some places it passes between very high mountains,
affording scarcely room for travellers to pass. Sometimes the trail is
followed through fertile valleys and then over barren hills and rocky
passes till the summit of a gap in the mountains is reached, and a
pleasant valley opens to the view, offering a fine place for
encampment. The trail then turns to the left, and proceeds in a
southerly direction, crossing the Truckee several times, until the
Truckee Lake breaks upon the view. This small sheet of water is
surrounded by lofty mountains, except upon the side where its outlet
flows from it. The trail strikes the shore of the lake at its eastern
end, and continues around its north-eastern side over a very
difficult, boggy road. Having reached the upper end of the lakes, the
trail leaves the shore on the right hand, ascends over some rocky
hills, and, crossing some deep ravines and swampy ground, arrives at
the base of the crest of the Sierra Nevada. Then comes the ascent of
the steep pass--a work of difficulty and danger. The mules are
compelled to leap from crag to crag, and, when heavily laden, are
often precipitated backward in climbing the almost perpendicular
rocks.
Having attained the summit of the pass, the view is inexpressibly
grand and comprehensive. A mile journey upon the top of the mountain
brings the traveller to a small lake, surrounded by good grass, which
is often used as a place of encampment. Leaving the lake on the right
hand, the trail descends over the rocky ground for a few miles, and
then enters a beautiful valley about five miles long. Through this
valley, which is called the Yuba valley, by the emigrants, flows the
Yuba River, a tributary of the Feather River, and the scene of
considerable gold digging and washing. This is the commencement of the
gold region, and after their journey through the wilderness, here the
emigrants greet the "promised land." From this point to Sacramento
city, the great terminus of the overland emigration, it is about sixty
miles; but the trading post of Yuba, Johnson's ranche, Vernon, and the
other posts, offer convenient intermediate resting places.
We have thus sketched the general character of the principal overland
route to California, and have followed the trail of the emigrant over
all the difficulties and obstacles which present themselves upon the
route. That there are portions of the journey which are productive of
considerable suffering, and which demand stout hearts and strong
constitutions to meet them, is not to be doubted. But they are few
compared with the dangers to be encountered by deviating from the
particular trail whose course we have followed. The want of water is
the principal source of annoyance towards the lake part of the route,
but this occurs in few places. The longest distance to be travelled
without finding water, is about forty-five miles--from the "Sink" of
Mary's River to Truckee River, and this may be prepared for. It is a
matter of great importance, that the delay upon the route should be as
little as possible. Great suffering and many deaths have been caused
by delaying too long at different camping places. It should be made an
urgent duty to get over as much ground every day as possible, and to
keep in the old trail.
The overland route which we have sketched, and the route by way of
Chagres and Panama, are the two routes by which most of the California
emigrations had proceeded; but there are others projected, and some
have been followed. Many persons have proceeded to California through
Mexico; but the difficulty and delay in the matter of passports, and
the opposition of the Mexicans to armed parties of another country
passing their territory, must prove weighty objections to any such
route. Another has been projected, and will probably be opened. It is
a route across the territory of Nicaragua, in Central America. This
will be the shortest and most convenient route to the gold region,
and will absorb the greater portion of the travel thither; but the
overland route will always be taken by those who have been accustomed
to a country life, or have a thirst for adventure. It presents the
greatest variety of scenery--some of it of a character not to be seen
elsewhere; and affords opportunities for studying nature in all her
visible forms; and, though attended with toils and dangers, which will
daunt the feeble, it possesses the strongest attractions for the
lovers of variety, and the hardy adventurer who has confidence in his
own powers of endurance.
FOOTNOTES:
[14] Diary of a Physician in California, by James L. Tyson, M.D.
[15] Diary of a Physician in California, by James L. Tyson, M.D.
[16] Personal Adventures in California, by W. Redmond Ryan.